


Widow's Walk

by WickedLilThing



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crappy crap fic, Episode Related, F/M, Fix-It, Missing Scene, S08E05, Short, post S08E05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:05:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedLilThing/pseuds/WickedLilThing
Summary: Sansa waited.





	Widow's Walk

**Author's Note:**

> A quick, shitty fic I wrote while listening to "Jenny of Oldstones" and you'll probably think is shitty too. That's ok. The fandom has been rewriting season 5 in their image. I'm rejecting the conclusion of Cleganebowl. There's no way Sandor would let them die together (imho), he hates his brother too much to die with him.

She had made him promise to come back to him, wrapped in her furs, sticky with sweat after making love all night, she begged him with tears in her eyes. 

“Please. I’ve lost so much already and I’ve just now started to rebuild my life. You’ve finally come back to me. It's the last piece I needed to build a happy life. Don’t let me lose you.” She begged, her arms wrapped around him as if she would never let him go. “If you don’t promise me I’ll keep you here in bed.” 

“For the rest of my life, Little Bird?” He asked with a laugh. 

“If that’s what it takes.” 

He sighed. 

“Sansa, I can’t promise you, but if I do survive I’ll come back to you.” He told her, sealing his words with a kiss.

That had been months ago and the men who had gone south were finally returning. Trickling back, bit by bit, to Winterfell and the surrounding keeps and villages. Anxiously, she waited on the battlements watching for that huge, familiar frame to crest the hills on the horizon. Every spare moment she had she was watching the road from windows and the battlement. 

“Lady Sansa, it’s late.” Brienne came to her one night on the battlement. “It’s been days since the last one came back. Perhaps you should go back to your rooms.” 

“No.” She replied, standing silent. 

Another month passed. The Lady of Winterfell kept her watch, they called the battlement the Widow’s Walk. She had finally found him after so long and he ran off the next morning like a phantom. The man who she had dreamed of pressing her into the mattress on her first wedding night. The man she dreamed of rescuing her from Littlefinger and Ramsey. A good man who would never hurt her, who was kind and had such a capacity to love if he would let down his walls. She should have gone south with him. She should have left with him on the night the Blackwater burned. She should have tied him to her bed and forbid him from leaving her. She should have brought him to the Godswood and given him her vows that night. She should have told him she loved him. That was her biggest regret, it filled her with such sorrow she hadn’t felt since her mother died. 

She dreamed of him. At least she could still see him in her dreams. She thought, her hand on her swollen belly. Maybe she was cursed. She wondered. 

“At least we had one happy memory.” She said to herself as she walked into the courtyard as the gate opened. She turned her head to see who was passing through and found a ghost on a pale horse. “Sandor…”


End file.
